


Friday Night Family

by 221beesandjumpers



Series: Watson-Holmes Family [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fever, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Parentlock, Sick Sherlock, Sickfic, Watson-Holmes Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-08 00:23:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15919215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221beesandjumpers/pseuds/221beesandjumpers
Summary: John comes home late from work looking to spend time with his family.





	Friday Night Family

It was dark when John finally returned home from the surgery on Friday night, worn briefcase slung over his hunched shoulders. There had been a car accident a few blocks away from work, but luckily the quick efforts of his team were able to save all the victims. Not surprising that two cars should collide so terribly, given the icy roads that were plaguing parts of London this time of year. Impossible to keep the roads clear with the nearly endless snowfall. These were the days he was thankful for his experience in the war. While the nightmares still haunted him from time to time, the knowledge and skills he had gained were invaluable in an emergency.

He peered into the sitting room, expecting to find an exasperated Hamish crying, as he had been sick with a fever for the last two days. Sherlock had been a saint, soothing his sobs and monitoring his medicine intake and temperature vigilantly. John had been pretty torn up after hearing his screams the first night, feeling so helpless to comfort him while his body dealt with its first real sickness. He was a doctor, wasn’t he supposed to take all the pain away?

Sherlock had cut his worries off immediately. “John, you know better than anyone he needs to build up immunity to these things. We’ll just give him the extra love he needs until he’s better, isn’t that right, Hame?” he cooed as he held his warm little body to his chest.

John smiled, thinking of how much their lives had changed since they brought Hamish home four months ago. Sherlock had taken to him instantly, easing John’s fears that they might be bringing on too much, too soon into the flat. They had only been married for a year before pursuing fatherhood, and John had been worried adding a baby to the flat would overwhelm his husband. If anything, Hamish fit right in. Life was never boring on Baker Street and Hamish practically guaranteed it would stay that way. Sherlock played his violin vigorously to make him laugh, and he reached out to grab spare case notes to throw whenever Sherlock wasn’t paying enough attention to him. There wasn’t only one overly dramatic person in the flat anymore. Yes, they made a great pair.

Noticing a seemingly Hamish-free room, John turned to head upstairs before a curly head poking out from underneath a blanket on the couch caught his eye. _He must have worn Sherlock out, poor thing_ , John thought, as he advanced up to their son’s room to say goodnight.

Hamish was thankfully fast asleep in his crib and looking worlds better, John noted, as he gently pressed his hand against his small forehead to confirm that the fever had gone. _He’ll be right as rain in the morning, for better or worse_ , he jokingly thought, as there was nothing to complain about in a weekend filled with the chaos of the two people he loved most in the world. Giving Hamish a bedtime kiss and checking one last time to see he was on the mend, John let go of the edge of the crib. Grateful life would soon be returning to normal, John quietly closed the door and slowly crept back down the stairs.

He made his way into the kitchen to put the kettle on for one last tea before bed. Glancing out at his sleeping flatmate, John laughed quietly at how little he could actually see of the man. Sherlock’s nose peeked out from the top of the blanket, and that unruly mop, but the rest of him was swamped in the fabric. John closed the gap between them and sat at the edge of the couch.

“John?” Sherlock whispered as woke up and took in the scene in front of him.

“Hi, sleepy head”, John smiled back as he reached out to push a runaway curl blocking his eye. “Sherlock?” John said in a worried tone, pressing his hand against the warm forehead, “Do you have a fever?”

Sherlock nodded slightly in the half-light of the flat. “Yeah, it started a couple hours ago when I put Mish down. I was feeling especially tired today, but I thought that was only in response to how understandably fussy he’s been lately”, he said, rolling over slightly to face John. “When he fell asleep, it really came over me”.

“I’m sorry, love. We’ll have to have a strict talk with him in the morning about how it’s not nice to get others sick”, John said, continuing to stroke his hand through Sherlock’s hair.

“It’s ok, I should have suspected it”, Sherlock answered. “24/7 with a sick little boy, it was bound to happen. It’s just a fever though, I’ll be fine in a couple days, hopefully”.

John nodded, taking in Sherlock’s extra pale complexion and the hint of labored breathing.

“Let’s get you into bed, hmm? Not that this isn’t comfortable, but I think I can warm you up a bit better when there’s more room”.

Helping the blanketed Sherlock into a standing position, Sherlock’s shivering frame leaned slightly against John as they moved towards the back of the flat. Dimming their bedroom lights, John propped Sherlock against his pillow and went to take the kettle off to pour bedtime tea for the both of them, snatching a few pills from the bathroom on his way back into their room.

“Hey, don’t go to sleep on me yet”, John smiled as he gathered an armful of consulting detective and pushed a tea and the pills into his hands.

Sherlock groaned and opened his eyes. “I understand Mishy’s pain the last couple days. Not feeling well at all”, he said as he took his medicine and placed the tea on his bedside table.

John pursed his lips and cuddled Sherlock close to him, hooking his chin on Sherlock’s shoulder. “Well, this weekend your goal is to get lots of fluids and rest. You barely get enough as it is, with all you do for the baby. You’ve scaled back your career, been there for every little thing. I’m so appreciative, Sherlock. I don’t think I say that as much as I should”.

Sherlock laughed hoarsely, “You say that at least once a week. And I say just as much, ‘I want this’. John, you and Hamish are more than I ever could have imagined for myself. I never thought I’d be so lucky as to have you, let alone the cutest baby this side of England”.

As Sherlock’s eyes fluttered shut, John gave him one last squeeze before they shifted to lie down on the bed. After a beat of silence, John filled the air with a, “Well, I’m pretty darn proud of you, Papa. Hamish is one lucky guy”.

Turning over to gaze at John, Sherlock’s lips flickered up into a small grin. “Mmm, I’d like to think so”.

“I know so”, said John. “Try to get some rest, ok?” Sherlock nodded and curled his arm under his pillow as John got up to get undressed.

With a weekend of lounging ahead, he figured adventure could wait. For a little while.


End file.
